The Stars That Rule Us Mortals
by starlight way
Summary: Uther Pendragon is the king and his son will succeed him - not everyone wants to. Ulfric Stormcloak wants the crown for himself, while Cersei Lannister wants it for her son. Sansa Stark is married to Tyrion and a hostage in Windhelm. Eventually, Arthur/Sansa will be a thing, but it's too early. R&R please!*FIRST PUBLISHED STORY***
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

"Arthur, we need to start back," Merlin urged as the woods began to grow dark around them, embracing them like a cloak.

"We are going to miss supper."

"Does your stomach rumble so? I thought it was a wild boar." Prince Arthur asked with a hint of humour.

Merlin sighed, but did not rise to the bait. He and the prince were approximately the same age, just shy of twenty. A lot of teasing went back and forth between them, but it was always with good intentions. "While yours doesn't?" he replied. "Just a minute ago, I thought I heard a lion's roar. It turns out, it was actually you."

"Now, now Merlin, you're just making things up." Arthur said softly. "I can go a whole day without having anything to eat."

"You know that's not true, right? I really hope you are not delusional, because Albion relies on you to govern it someday." Merlin said. "It would be a shame if you were proven incapable of ruling."

Arthur snorted. "That's very funny, Merlin! Remind me to have you clean the royal stables tomorrow." The prince knew that his manservant absolutely hated cleaning up the stables.

"Now, who's being funny, I wonder?" Merlin jabbed. "You need to be careful, or Hulda will hire you as a jester."

"I could say the same thing about, Merlin." Arthur said. "Although you would be really bad at it, and what good is a jester that tells horrible jokes?" His voice echoed.

"We have a long way to go," Merlin pointed out. "Maybe an hour, maybe just fifty minutes. And night is falling."

Arthur glanced at the sky. "Great observation, Merlin! It does, every day, and usually about this time. I didn't know you were _also_ scared of the dark."

Merlin remained silent. The prince was quick to call him a coward, but in truth Merlin had intervened on Arthur's behalf many times. Arthur was none the wiser, of course, as Merlin made sure that his abilities were kept hidden; Merlin was a warlock – a mage with the ability to do magic without having to research for it. Merlin needed no scroll, nor the Circle of Magi to teach him how to do magic, he just does it.

"But you are right, Merlin." Arthur spoke after what seemed a long stretch of silence. "We can't hunt any more. And we should go back; my father won't be pleased to see me absent from the dinner table."

"I think he will be pleased to see all the innocent rabbits you killed." Merlin said with a hint of a smile.

"Shut up, Merlin, or I'll have you join them." Arthur said as he turned the opposite direction. "Follow me."

Merlin happily obliged. He made sure to avoid the roots of the oak trees that twisted out of the deep, mouldering earth, because he didn't want to end up face first in the dirt.

"Yes, Sir!"

CHAPTER ONE

Sansa refused to wear anything but her own gowns, even though she would soon outgrew them; the Lannisters wanted to bribe her with gifts, but she was a daughter of the North – she wanted her freedom and all she was given was more chains to tie herself up. She remembered the soft furs she used to wear, back in the wintry north, which were obsolete in Windhelm.

Cersei Lannister and Ulfric Stormcloak had formed their unholy alliance only a few months before, gossip in the castle was that they would soon be married. Sansa thought that they were a good match; they both were cunning and cruel, they would do anything to get to their objective – the Pendragon throne.

But to get close to the throne, they must first gain influence and power. This is why Sansa is trapped in Windhelm. Ulfric had commanded the execution of her father, so Winterfell would fall to Sansa – whoever controls Sansa, controls Winterfell.

And this Is why they had married Sansa off to Tyrion Lannister, Cersei's dwarf brother.

"I am Lady Sansa Stark. I am brave. I am Lord Stark's daughter and Winterfell is mine. I was beaten, abused and married to the Imp, but I am alive. I will get through this. I will go home."

The looking glass right in front of her did not lie; she was almost a woman grown, with auburn hair falling to her waist, and the bluest eyes, more so than the summer sky. She held her head up, her lips forming a tight line.

A gentle knock on the door. Someone came for her.

"Yes?" she said, turning her full body towards the opening door. It was her lord husband that had come to visit her in her chambers. He strode into the room with the confidence of a lion.

"Lady Sansa," he bowed when he had crossed half the distance between the entrance and her. "I hope you are well."

Sansa wanted to hate him, because of his name and his deformity, but she couldn't. He, of all the people in the castle, treated her kindly and with respect.

"I am. Thank you, Lord Tyrion. To what do I owe the honour?" She said with a curtsey.

Tyrion took a look around. His eyes fell upon the new discarded green dress he had bought for her.

"You did not like it?" He asked. Sansa followed his gaze and saw what he meant. The dress was beautiful, but her pride wouldn't let her accept it – this dress was bought with Lannister money, and she wanted none of that.

"I cannot accept your gift, my lord. I have my own dresses." Sansa said sternly.

The Imp seemed to take her answer in, for a moment. "I see. But I thought that a new dress would make you happy."

Sansa wasted no breath. "Leaving would make me happy."

He contemplated. "Then, I guess we could go somewhere. How about the capital? Camelot is lovely this time of year."

"I want to go home, Lord Tyrion." She said with an exasperated sigh. She walked towards a chair and took a seat. "As kind as you are to me, I cannot live here. Please, just annul the wedding and let me go back to Winterfell."

Tyrion approached her, and took her hands in his. "I am afraid I can't do that, Lady Sansa. My family expects certain things from me – their allies, also."

 _Stormcloak._ "You mean Lord Ulfric? I thought this wedding was your late father's idea?"

He sighed. "It was, but Ulfric Stormcloak has a large influence on the things my House gets."

She looked beaten, for a heartbeat. Then an idea crossed her mind. "Then, let us go to Camelot for a few weeks. I'm sure a change of air would do me – us – good." She looked at him expectantly.

"Well, I," He was confused; Sansa could clearly see it in his eyes. "Alright then, I will make the arrangements."

"Thank you, my lord." Sansa offered him a smile that wasn't at all insincere. The Imp looked as if he was struck by lightning. Sansa's smiles were a rare occurence.

He simply bowed to her, then turned and walked away.


	2. Chapter Two

Lady Morgana walked down the hallways of the castle, followed by many young ladies; first and foremost, Beth Pendragon, the king's niece. Just a few steps behind were the Neville sisters, Isabel and Anne and right at the end was Lizzie Plantagenet, the traitor's daughter.

She was a Gorlois by blood, but a Pendragon in soul, as she was raised in the court, bearing the title of Lady Gorlois and the protection of the crown since the day her parent's passed away. Uther saw in her the future queen of Albion, an aspiration for which Morgana wasn't very fond of; she liked Arthur as a brother, nothing more – still, Uther was not to be crossed.

They arrived at the dining room a little earlier than the king. Arthur was already there, seated, drinking from a goblet. Behind him stood Merlin, ready to do his bidding. Morgana took her seat, right next to Arthur.

"Good evening to you all," She said her voice like honey. The other ladies took their seats as well.

"Good evening, Morgana," He said with a nod of his head. "My ladies," Isabel and Anne blushed and murmured something, elated to be greeted by the prince. Beth smiled at him.

"Good evening, cousin. How was your day?"

Arthur replied something but Morgana was too busy observing Lizzie that she didn't hear his exact answer. Lizzie was solemn-looking, possibly wondering why she would be invited to dine with the king; her father was the one to rise against the crown and paid for it with his life. His widow, Lady Elizabeth begged for her and her daughter to be pardoned and Uther granted them their freedom, as long as they both stayed at court.

As if on a queue, Lady Elizabeth strode in the room, looking as splendid and beautiful as ever, with her golden hair plaited and a dress that would make a queen cry of envy – it was made from golden silk, with thousands of crystals woven on to it. Uther spared no expense when it came to her and Morgana had an inkling as to why that was.

Arthur greeted the lady with respect, as did the other attendees. Her daughter remained silent.

Lady Elizabeth smiled at them all and took her seat, just opposite of Morgana. Then the royal chancellor entered, Richard Neville, the father of Isabel and Anne. He took the seat opposite of the prince and next to Lady Elizabeth, to whom he gave such a scorned look, one would think he was glaring daggers at her back. He greeted politely the prince, but mostly ignored everybody else.

Beth, being the highly political person she was, started discussing the Stormcloak situation and directed questions both to the prince and to the royal chancellor.

"So, gentlemen, why isn't Ulfric Stormcloak locked in a cell right now?" She asked. "Didn't he try to stir up a rebellion?"

The prince was the first to answer. "It is not that simple. To capture him, we would have to march towards Eastmarch, lay a siege on Windhelm and hope that we won't be flanked by his allies."

"And by allies, you are referring to the Lannisters?" Morgana asked, with interest. She had heard rumours about Cersei Lannister and Ulfric Stormcloak.

Arthur nodded. "And the Starks, as well."

"The Starks?" Lady Elizabeth inquired. "Aren't the northmen loyal to the crown?"

"Not exactly," Lord Neville cut in. "Sansa Stark has married the infamous Imp. Not the worst of the Lannisters, but still a Lannister."

Beth looked shocked. "I wasn't aware of this. Isn't Lady Stark around my age? Sixteen, fifteen, I think?"

"Sixteen," Lord Neville confirmed. "That didn't stop her from marrying Tyrion Lannister and quite possibly she had a hand in her father's assassination."

The Neville sisters were stunned. They had barely spoken a word since the conversation started, but they seemed to pay a lot of attention in what was being said.

The conversation was cut abruptly, as the royal guard announced the king. Everybody stood up and put the nicest smiles upon their faces, even Lizzie, Morgana noticed.

"Good evening my lords and ladies. I am glad that you could join me." Uther took his seat at the head of the table, and everybody followed suit.


End file.
